Saying Goodbye
by maxandkiz
Summary: Sam says his goodbyes to John.


Disclaimer: Supernatural and all its characters belong to Kripke and the CW. I own nothing.

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Sam Winchester slowly walked across the grassy lot a bouquet of roses clutched tightly in his hand. Stopping beside a water stained headstone he knelt down. "Hi mom. I, umm, I brought you some flowers." He softly said as he placed the small bouquet in front of the stone marking his mother's grave. Standing back up he paused for a moment gently ghosting his fingers over the stone before going over to the marker that had recently been placed next to hers.

Dropping to his knees he reached out tracing the letters carved into the granite. Then taking a deep breath he began. "Hey dad, I know you're probably wondering where Dean is. He's back at the motel sleeping. See, he kinda got a little drunk last night." Sam explained with a small smile. "Yeah, okay, so it was more than a little, he was drunk as a skunk. Guess he inherited your way of dealing with painful dates, huh dad."

Pausing Sam glanced away watching as a squirrel scampered up a nearby tree. Reining in his emotions the youngest Winchester faced his father's marker once more. "Sorry about that dad. I didn't come here to start in on you about your drinking or shit like that. I, uhh, I wanted to apologize to you; tell you I was sorry for picking fights with you, and yelling at you about what a crappy childhood we had. I'm so sorry I made things so difficult between us. I know you did the best you could. As much as I hated the training and hunting I know you had to do that to keep me and Dean safe. It was the only way to protect us from what's out there. I wish I'd figured that out earlier; it would have saved us all a lot of headaches. Guess it's true what they say about hindsight being twenty twenty, huh?"

"I miss you dad. I miss hearing you and Dean planning out a hunt, seeing your smile of approval for a job well done, heck I even miss you blessing me out when I'd screw up." Sam said as he toyed with the hem of his shirt. "Hey, you remember packing candy and fruit in those plastic bags for Jim around Christmas time. You guys always sat Dean, Caleb, and me at the table side by side and put each of us in charge of adding a certain piece of candy to the bag. Well, except Dean, you always gave him the fruit cause you knew he wouldn't eat it. Then you'd get our mini assembly line going and we'd pack bags for hours. Dean and I used to hate sitting there packing those stupid bags when we could have been outside playing in the snow. But you made us do it every year no matter how we tried to get out of it." Sam sighed. "You know what dad? I'd give anything to be able to pack those bags now cause, cause that would mean you and Pastor Jim and Caleb would be a-alive." Sam dropped his head into his hands as tears streamed down his face.

A little while later

Sam wiped his face with his the back of his hand and gazed up at the headstone. "Sorry" he apologized. "Know how much you always hated it when I cried. I just, this is hard, you know. There's so much I needed to tell you before you, you died. And there's a lot I wish you had told me, too. Like if you were proud of me. I know Dean said you were and I wish I could believe that. But if that were true, you wouldn't have sent me away that day. I mean I'm glad you told Dean you loved him and were proud of him before you died. But, but why didn't you talk with me? Why'd you send me away? Was I really that bad of a son to you that you didn't even want to say goodbye? Or did it have something to do with that cryptic message you told Dean? Am I gonna…"

The shrill ringing of a cell phone in the quiet graveyard startled Sam making him jump. Laughing in embarrassment he pulls out his phone and glances at the caller id. "Gotta go dad. Dean's awake and you know what he's like after an all nighter." Sam said as he shoved the phone back in his pocket and stood. "I love you dad." Sam whispered before turning and trudging back across the lot to the impala.

The End

AN- This story is dedicated to my father who passed away twenty-one years ago today.


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